Waiting
by Melantha Delmar
Summary: Ginny waits for Harry to come home.


_**What can I say about this one? My first angst-fic. And, in my mind, my best. This was one of those pieces of writing that just came out in one sitting. It's one of my favorites even though I don't necessarily ship Harry/Ginny...**_

****

**Waiting **

It was midnight. And too long after the time Harry had promised to be back.

Ginny took her steaming mug of tea from the table and meandered over to the kitchen window. Once there, she stood still and let the warmth of her beverage slowly seep into her freezing hands. It had been almost a month since they'd been able to afford the cost of heating this tiny London flat, and she honestly couldn't think of the last time they'd been able to make water come out of the faucet without using their wands.

Outside, the night was a lovely one, despite the threat of snow that hung heavy in the air. Light from a full moon and some unusually bright stars flooded London's streets, making the streetlamps below not only unnecessary but also somewhat alien with their glowing spots of orange or yellow. Silvery moonlight turned the icy roads into rivers of glitter, and made the occasional car seem less the menace it was in this kind of weather, and more like a strange ship, stuck fast in the river's flow. Awash in the fairy dust of midwinter, London was a slumbering maiden, unaware of her own beauty.

Ginny took a long sip of the rapidly cooling tea and sat herself down at the table again. Of course she hadn't really expected to see anyone out on the streets at this hour -let alone Harry - but she couldn't keep herself from looking. This was the third week in a row that one of his "meetings" had run late and she was growing anxious about his returning home later and later. Tonight was the worst of all. He should've been back nearly five hours ago. He'd even promised beforehand to take her out for dinner when he came home although they couldn't afford it.

She had grown to hate this waiting. She took Harry's leave-takings in stride as something he had to do - not only for himself, but for the Order and their overall Cause - but that couldn't resign herself to this fear of him never coming back. At first she hadn't worried about him at all; she'd merely been angry that he wouldn't let her join him.

"It's far too dangerous for you," he'd pleaded with a look of desperate terror in his emerald eyes. "I can't have you subject yourself to the same fate that…" His voice had faltered for a moment. "…the same fate that your brother suffered."

Ginny had immediately dropped the subject without a second thought. Ron's torture and subsequent death five years ago had sparked Harry's initiation to the Order of the Phoenix at the tender age of seventeen. She and Harry had only just started dating then and the tragedy had devastated them both. Suffering from the loss of a brother for one and a best friend for the other, they teetered on the sharp edge of severe depression. Now, Ginny could hardly remember anything about those few weeks following Ron's death, except that it had been Hermione, wonderfully strong-willed Hermione, who held on to both of them. She had helped them when their grades had started slipping, made them eat when they weren't hungry, and had eventually been the voice of reason that led them to take solace in each other.

Ginny was endlessly thankful for Hermione's intervention in their runway lives. If it hadn't been for her, she was almost certain that one or both of them would have turned to suicide to escape their grief. And they almost certainly would have drawn away from each other in an attempt to staunch the hurt.

As it stood now though, she didn't have much of a chance to repay her debt to the older girl. She didn't even know where Hermione was now. After graduating, Ginny and Harry had been forced to flee the wizarding world altogether for nearly two years. With Voldemort more powerful than ever, and his forces steadily growing, most wizards were seeking to remove their families from the path of the Dark Lord's destruction. It was the past all over again and there didn't seem much anyone could do to stop it from happening. Harry had been scared that if he stayed he and Ginny would wind up exactly like his parents – young, in love, and dead.

And so they had fled. For almost two years they lived in quietly warded Muggle towns. Harry thought that as long as they were together and alive than nothing could be wrong. But Ginny knew that philosophy was as foolish as it was romantic. Eventually Harry began to feel the pangs of guilt over leaving his responsibilities behind, and Ginny didn't want to return to the darkness of home, but knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do.

They returned. And immediately had to flee again. They lived life on the run now, skipping from city to countryside, finding rent where they could. Their current London flat was their longest occupancy yet. They'd been here almost four months now. The Order was spent, its members depleted, but here in London the resistance was unusually strong so they could live at their leisure.

_So to speak_, thought Ginny grimly as she stared at the cold remains of her tea. She didn't really mind the lack of money or that she couldn't actively participate in the fight against Voldemort, but the waiting bothered her. When she had to sit and wait for Harry she felt the worst. She had no one to contact for news and nowhere to go for fear that he would panic if she wasn't there, so she sat and suffered silently, waiting for that dreadful day that he never returned. Lately the monotony of her strange routine had haunted her, and dreams of Harry being captured plagued her sleep. She didn't dare burden him with her fears, but remained, as she had been from the start, his will to go on.

Ginny wasn't an idiot. She knew what role she played in Harry's life. Without her there for him to want to come back for, he probably would've thrown himself at Voldemort in a hopelessly suicidal gesture long ago. Ginny loved Harry with all her heart and had no wish to abandon him, but she had the distinctly sinking feeling that her lifestyle was slowly driving her insane.

Suddenly there was a very sharp tap at the door that echoed three times. Ginny stiffened at the sound and her mug hit the table with a loud cracking sound. Turning to stare at the door, the redhead fumbled in her pocket for her wand. The tap echoed again, three times sharp.

"Coming," Ginny said then, getting up and concealing the wand in the sleeve of her sweater which really wasn't hers but an old one of Harry's that was knit by her mother.

She pulled the door open and whipped her wand out, a Stunning Spell on her lips. However, as soon as she saw who it was, the words died and the wand was lowered.

"Remus," she said instead, a bit startled. She hadn't seen the man in over a year, since he'd arranged for their first flat in London.

Remus Lupin, werewolf and one of the last members of the original Order, looked the worse for the wear. His hair was its usual grey-streaked brown, but his face had grown haggard since she'd last seen him. His cheekbones stood out too much, his skin was far too pale, and his eyes looked like they'd seen more than was possible to see in a single lifetime.

"Ginny," he greeted her quietly. He ducked his head in thanks as she ushered him inside and stood staring at the tiny kitchen as she closed the door.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, moving toward the stove and the kettle. "Some tea perhaps?" She was trying vainly to pretend that his visit was just that, a visit, and that it had nothing to do with Harry.

"No, but thank you," he replied.

She turned to look at him. "Would you like a seat then?" she offered, pulling out a chair.

"Thank you, Ginny, but I can't." He shifted his weight and gave her a calm stare. "I've only come to take you to Harry."

It was then that Ginny noticed the bruise marks on Remus' neck, making the whole thing suddenly real. About ten million thoughts flew through her head at once, all concerning Harry, and then she focused on one thing.

"He's alive then?"

"At St. Mungo's," Remus ascertained. "I'll take you to him."

* * *

Ginny hated waiting. She'd spent her whole life waiting. Waiting to be old enough for Hogwarts. Waiting for Harry to notice her. Waiting to graduate so she could be with Harry. Waiting for it to be safe again so they could go home. Waiting for Harry to come home to her. Waiting, always waiting, for everything to be okay so she could have her happy ending.

And now she found herself waiting again.

The boy lying in the white hospital bed beside her did not look like he was on the brink of death. His prone body, iced in moonlight from the window across the room, looked more like some artist's idea of a fallen angel. Haphazard arms and legs, and tousled hair, dark against the snowy whiteness of the pillow beneath his head, lent him the innocent look of a child who'd collapsed during play.

Under different circumstances Ginny would have laughed at the irony of Harry as a fallen angel, but just now she could not even summon a smile. The medi-wizards were flustered to no end. Harry's body was dying and not one of them had a clue as to why it was happening. Remus was closemouthed about what Harry had been doing, but it was apparent that he had disappeared in the midst of an operation and it'd taken hours to find him again. When they did, he'd been barely conscious, and unable to say what had happened. All he did was mutter Ginny's name and insist that he had to go home.

Ginny closed her eyes and listened to Harry's shallow breathing with an ache in her chest that wouldn't go away. She knew she couldn't exist without him, just as he couldn't exist without her. He was the only reason left for her to live because she existed solely for him. Without that purpose, she didn't know what she would do.

"Ginny."

The whisper was so soft that she almost didn't hear it. Eyes snapping open, she turned her tearstained face toward Harry.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise," Harry whispered, pronouncing each word as though it hurt him to say in combination.

Ginny drank in the sight of his dark green eyes and whispered back, "I'm still waiting, Harry."

"I know," he replied. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry?"

She knew without a doubt what he meant when he said it and that - more than anything else that he'd ever done in his life - made her love him.

"I'll wait for you."

****


End file.
